


The Tower Falls

by tgecko



Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Character(s), Original Fiction, modern day folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 08:17:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgecko/pseuds/tgecko
Summary: It all started when Sage found the necklace in her cousin's things after his funeral.  Suddenly, ghosts and monsters are showing up in every nook and cranny.  Now the necklace is permanently attached, she's seeing visions of dead people, and crazy cultists are pouring out of the woodwork.  What the hell was her cousin in to?  And how does she get out of it?





	The Tower Falls

**Author's Note:**

> This is my NaNoWriMo project for this year. It's an original work of urban fantasy fiction. It features minority characters and characters on the LGBT spectrum, so if you spot anything problematic *please* let me know.

Sage Carver was in the middle of getting her hair done when she heard the news about her best friend's death.

She had survived on leftovers for two weeks to afford the rare treat; normally she relied on her roommate Gabriel to help her with the glue-in extensions. But Gabriel wasn't talking to her right now and her lack of fucks to give carried straight on over from his drama into her own appearance. When she'd seen her ragged hair in the mirror two weeks ago before work, she'd had a solid "fuck it" moment and decided she was ready to pay someone else to deal with it. So now she was sitting in the stylist's chair, trying to tune out the other woman's chatter. Nothing against her, but even on her best days Sage was rarely up for meaningless conversation with strangers. 

The protective apron started to flutter and vibrate as her phone began to ring. Sage pulled it free and glanced at the screen. Her mother's number flashed next to a picture of a toy dog wearing a pink plaid dress. Sage heaved a quiet sigh and flicked her thumb across the screen, rejecting the call. Her thumbs flew as she sent a text message:

_At the salon. What's up?_

_Call me asap._

She rolled her eyes at the vague message and met her stylist's gaze in the mirror. "Any chance you feel like taking a break? I need to make a phone call." 

The stylist nodded and patted her shoulder. "Sure thing, hon."

Sage forced a smile even though she hated it when people called her by pet names. "Thanks." As soon as the stylist stepped away, Sage had her phone up to her ear, dialing her mother. It hardly had time to ring before the call was picked up.

It was immediately clear that something was wrong. She could hear someone wailing in the background and her mother's voice when she answered was raw. "Sage, honey?"

"Yeah, ma. You sound rough. Is something wrong?"

Her mother took a deep breath that ended in a hiccup. "It's your cousin, Freddy."

Dread trickled over her skin like an ice cold shower. "What about Freddy?" Sage asked, stifling the urge to shout _just spit it out already!_ Her mother was prone to dramatic fits, but something about this seemed more serious than the latest tiff between her mother and their siblings.

"Freddy's dead, honey." There was another loud wail in the background, her aunt Abigail, most likely. 

Sage's stomach dropped as the dread sunk into her skin and settled in her bones; if she hadn't already been sitting she likely would have sunk to the ground. "What?" She whispered, hoping desperately that she had heard wrong. She had just seen him a few days ago. They were supposed to go out for drinks after she got paid again. There was no way he could just be.... gone.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. The police just let us know a few hours ago. I've been helping Abby take care of the funeral arrangements and inform the family all day." Aunt Abby sobbed even louder in the background before the sound faded away followed by the sound of a door closing. "We were lucky enough to find someone who could take care of things quickly. The funeral is scheduled for the day after tomorrow at Abby and Hector's church. Will you be able to make it?"

Sage nodded reflexively before remembering she was on a phone call. "I'll switch shifts with someone if I have to." She swallowed, blinking rapidly to dismiss the tears that threatened. Then, in a completely inappropriate display of black humor; "I'll miss his funeral over my dead body."

Freddy would have laughed. Her mother just gasped in outrage. "Sage!"

Sage laughed because it helped choke down the sobs. "I'll drop by Aunt Abby's place once I'm done here." She exchanged farewells with her mother and disconnected the call. Only when the stylist returned and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder did she realize she was staring blankly at her reflection.

"Are you all right, hon?" She asked. Sage met her gaze through the mirror, then glanced around the rest of the salon. The other stylists and customers were staring at her in morbid curiousity, as if they were waiting for her to fall apart.

She took a deep breath, pushing the grief and the sadness down until it was a small, cold bundle at the base of her stomach. These strangers didn't need to see her suffering. Her grief would remain private for as long as she could control it. "Just got some bad news. I'd like to finish up here as soon as possible, I have family affairs to see to." 

\---..---

"You spent all that time at the salon and that's the best they could do?" Her mother's face was pulled tight into a grimace, lines carved deep into her dark skin like graffitti on a tree. It was, unfortunately, a familiar sight. Rebecca Carver did not need the excuse of a death in the family to project her disapproval of the world (and her only daughter).

Sage ignored her mother, letting the passive aggressive comment roll off her back as she usually did. She leaned down and hugged Rebecca, feeling the slightest bit smug at how much her slight advantage in height annoyed the older woman. "Hi, Ma. How's Aunt Abby doing?"

"Terrible, of course," her mother sniffed. "She laid down for a nap a few minutes ago. We still haven't been able to get hold of Paul."

Sage nodded at the mention of her youngest cousin. "I think he has some kind of club after school today." The banality of the conversation was starting to make her skin itch. She stepped away from her mother and walked into the living room, Rebecca trailing after. "Ma, what happened?" 

"He was shot!" Rebecca's hands flew into the air, dramatic gestures serving as punctuation. "Abby ran out of smokes and sent him to the corner store. The police said he got into an altercation with some other people at the store and they followed him home and just gunned him down in cold blood! The officer said that he suspected it was a gang-related hit, like Freddy was some gangbanger. I can't even imagine Freddy hurting a fly, let alone being involved in a gang! I told that officer so, and you know what his justification was? Because Freddy was wearing his Spurs jersey. A black man in a Spurs jersey In San Antonio! Might as well arrest the whole town while we're at it. Those lazy good-for-nothings think just because a black man gets shot it's got something to do with gangs." Rebecca paused for a moment, thinking. "Although," she added hesitantly, "he does tend to disappear from time to time. And he's never tells anyone where he goes. Unless he told you something?"

Sage shook her head. "Freddy wouldn't ever do something like that." She actively avoided trying to speculate about what he might have been up to during the mysterious absences. Close as they were, her cousin had never confided in her where he went. Occasionally, he would receive a call from his phone and leave in the middle of a movie or dinner, always with an apologetic smile, but he never refused the mysterious summons. _Sorry, it's work_ , he would tell her with a smile. _I'll make it up to you later!_

Meanwhile, Rebecca had continued on the speculation of Freddy's possibly nefarious misdeeds. Sage sighed heavily. "Ma, stop. Aunt Abby doesn't need to hear you talking about that kind of thing." She glanced over at the hallway leading to Freddy's room. She could feel the push of her grief pressing against her emotional barriers, fighting to pry open any crack and crevice, like the deep ocean pressures pushing at a submarine whose only protection against the immense forces was the stability of its shape. She needed to get away, to let the ocean waters rush over her in private, because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that her mother would try her best to comfort her only to end up saying something incredibly inappropriate at exactly the wrong time. "I'm going to go... I'm going to straighten up Freddy's room. So the family doesn't have to deal with it."

"Don't take anything without running it past your aunt first," Rebecca cautioned, shaking her finger in her daughter's face.

Sure enough, just like she thought, her mother was saying something without regard to how it might affect other people. Her indignation was enough to suppress the overwhelming grief long enough to escape to Freddy's room.


End file.
